


Dirty Bathroom Sex

by badwolfbadwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/pseuds/badwolfbadwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek makes Stiles get on his knees in a dirty bathroom.</p><p>  <i>“Get in the fucking stall, Stiles,” Derek said, voice hot on Stiles’ cheek.  The jolt lanced through Stiles, straight to his dick, and caused his fingertips to dig even further into the warm leather.  When Stiles didn’t move immediately Derek surged forward, pushing the slender body with just the strength of his arms and slamming the stall door shut.  He immediately crowded Stiles back against the rickety door, feeling the metal creak as their bodies pressed against it with a rough slam.  Lips and teeth scraped against Stiles' neck as he threw his head back, banging against the door.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Bathroom Sex

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to dr_girlfriend for the beta!

Stiles bounced on the dance floor, the music pounding in his ears.  It was hot and sweaty and fun, but Derek sulking in the corner of their booth was kind of putting a damper on his good mood. Yes, he'd known that was exactly what would happen when he had finally harangued the man enough to get him to agree to come out. But it was Scott's birthday after all. And Derek always caved when Stiles put on his puppy dog face. Well, most of the time he did.

The song ended, merging seamlessly with another thumping bass line and Stiles decided to retreat with a quick nod to Scott and Allison who were too busy sucking face to even notice. He threw himself onto the sticky leather of the booth and gave Derek a chipper smile.  He was infinitely pleased to see Derek’s bright eyes tracing over his exposed collarbone before flicking upward to meet his eyes.  Stiles smiled and knocked back the drink that Derek had bought him, secretly pleased that he had done so without any argument.  Having an older boyfriend had its advantages.  Not to mention just having a boyfriend.  A really hot boyfriend.  That was good too.

Derek was nursing his own beer, looking decidedly pissed off.  The crowd was growing rowdier, the bodies pressing tighter together and closer to the table.  

“Having fun?” Derek asked as he took another long pull off the bottle.  Stiles was momentarily distracted by the movement of his lips and the way his pink tongue darted out to lap at the corner of his mouth.

“Yep.  Get me another drink?” Stiles asked with an innocent looking smile, hand snaking over to wrap along the top of the thick thigh.  

Derek looked him over appraisingly and raised an eyebrow.  “You’re all flushed already.  Don’t know how loose I want you to be yet, tonight.”

Stiles felt his cheeks grow a deeper red.  Derek’s words were quiet against the loudness of the music, but Stiles heard them clearly and they buzzed against his skin with excitement.  He moved to get up out of the booth, turning to look at Derek’s folded and unbudging limbs.  

“Please?” Stiles grinned cheekily.  “I’ll even let you grind up on me on the dance floor.”  Part of him was thinking how ridiculously hot it would be to have those large muscles pressed up against him in front of everybody, but he also knew public fun was probably one of the last things Derek would want to do.

Derek unwrapped his crossed arms and slid forward from the back of the booth.  “Only because you said please.”  When he pushed out of the booth he was suddenly very close to Stiles, eyes sliding over his face, resting on his lips.  Stiles gulped at the proximity, his thrumming body amping up in anticipation.  He turned around to walk towards the bar, the sensation of being followed closely prickling in the back of his brain and causing the hair to stand up on the back of his neck.  Derek always stalked through the crowd like the wolf he was, and it secretly thrilled Stiles to be the prey.

Halfway to the bar rough hands grabbed at his hips and pulled him sideways, over to the door of the men’s bathroom.  Stiles allowed himself to be manhandled into the small room, turning with a slightly surprised look to regard Derek’s darkly serious face.

“No drink?” he asked, leaning up against the solitary countertop that was bowing sadly in the middle.

“You dragged me here, Stiles.  You owe me.”

“Oh come on, Derek.  You can’t tell me you aren't having any fun.  Watching my mad dancing skills.  Oh yeah, I know you like it.”  He swiveled his hips in a fake cha-cha, raising his eyebrow seductively before dropping his hands down as Derek remained stony and unamused.  And ridiculously attractive in his smoldering Adonis type of way.  “No, then?”

Derek crossed his arms, the leather of his jacket drawing tightly over his chest.  The movement drew Stiles’ eyes downward, the slight kick of the alcohol making him buzz faintly and warming his cheeks.  Derek looked good, really fucking good.  Like fuck me hard against the wall when we get home good.  Or maybe right here in this dirty bathroom against a toilet, moaning out wetly, scratching until there’s blood good.  Stiles gulped, feeling his already normally lax inner filter melt away as he spit out, “Fuck me, please.”

Derek just looked at him, eyes hard and muscles absolutely unmoving.  Stiles bit his lip and shifted his weight, leaning back against the counter and feeling the wetness from the faucet bleed into the back of his pants.  He pushed up from it, swiping at his butt and wiping his palms on his thighs, grimacing at the grime that came off.  The place was a hole, but in his slightly inebriated state he was willing to overlook the place’s downsides if Derek was gonna fuck him right here.

“Come here, Stiles,” Derek said finally, unraveling his limbs slowly.  Stiles was mesmerized by the fluid motions, the creak of the jacket, and the way Derek’s jaw clenched slightly with tension.  When Derek arched a thick eyebrow, Stiles leaped into action, stuttering forward and ending with a small stumble to catch himself on Derek’s chest.  He stared upward with a goofy grin, fingers gripping the collar of the jacket to hold himself upright as Derek stood still beneath his pawing.

“Get in the fucking stall, Stiles,” Derek said, voice hot on Stiles’ cheek.  The jolt lanced through Stiles, straight to his dick, and caused his fingertips to dig even further into the warm leather.  When Stiles didn’t move immediately Derek surged forward, pushing the slender body with just the strength of his arms and slamming the stall door shut.  He immediately crowded Stiles back against the rickety door, feeling the metal creak as their bodies pressed against it with a rough slam.  Lips and teeth scraped against Stiles' neck as he threw his head back, banging against the door.

“Maybe we, uh… shouldn’t we… be a little quieter?” Stiles spluttered out between hard bites before scrunching his eyes shut as Derek palmed him through his tight jeans.

“It’s a club.  Nobody can hear a fucking thing.” Razor-edged teeth bit against Stiles’ skin as he arched forward, baring his neck fully.  Derek spoke the words into the skin, burning with hot breath that sent a whole-body shudder through Stiles.  “Nobody will hear it when I make you wail.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Stiles said, eyes sliding shut.  Derek’s left hand slid possessively from Stiles’ hip upward to his neck in a long swipe, pushing up the sweat-damp t-shirt and drawing long nails over each rib.  He clawed at the fabric, wrapping his fist around it and using it to draw Stiles forward into a bruising kiss, all sharp teeth and snarls.  

Derek gripped a handful of Stiles’ hair, pulling back until their lips parted, smiling at the whimper before he pulled down.  Confusion flashed across Stiles’ face as he just bent at the waist slightly before realization dawned over him.

“What?  Oh, hell no, you don’t think I’m getting on this dirty fucking floor?  There’s probably piss and god knows what else, and these are the only jeans that make my ass look good.”  Derek jerked his fist downward and Stiles lost his balance slightly, reaching his hands forward to grasp Derek’s wrist and hold on as they struggled awkwardly in the confined space.  Well, mostly it was just Stiles struggling as Derek stood still and statue-like.

“Stiles,” Derek warned, voice slick as steel.  Stiles braced his feet and pressed against the creaking stall door, the cool of the cold metal shocking against his fevered skin.  “If you want to come tonight, you’ll fucking do it right now.”

Stiles let out an undignified whine but sunk downward, pulling a long face as his knees contacted the grime of the floor.  Derek let go of the t-shirt and watched with reluctance as it fell down to cover Stiles’ flat stomach again.  His fingers threaded through Stiles’ hair and grasped into a tight fist, pulling him backwards, tilting his head up, forcing him to meet his eyes.  “Good boy,” he said softly, eyes glinting.

Derek leaned himself against the wall and unzipped his jeans with one hand, his fingers disappearing inside the waistband of his dark boxers.  Stiles watched, mesmerized, at the flex of the muscular forearm — the shift of the tendons, the way the dark hair clung to the sweaty skin.  Derek’s face slackened from its angry tension to something sweeter and hungrier at the same time.  Christ, feeling Derek’s fingers fisting in his hair, forcing him to his knees on the dirty bathroom floor — well fuck, that shouldn’t be so hot either.  Stiles felt himself achingly hard in his pants, wondering just how nice he’d have to be in order to get Derek to fuck him right now.  

“Put your mouth to good use,” Derek said, sliding his jeans down over his hips slightly, revealing the ridiculously defined cut of his lower abdomen and the line of dark hair leading to the top of his wet cock.

Stiles licked his lips in anticipation and shuffled forward, letting Derek press his head forward until his nose was right there at the underside of Derek’s cock and he was inhaling heavily.  Derek smelled like sweat and musk and power, and it was hot, really fucking hot, down in the dirt fuck me now type of hot.  He held Stiles’ hair so tightly that he could hardly move and so he settled for making little kitten-licks against the skin, thrilling with every hot breath that Derek huffed out and every shudder of hips he elicited.

“Jesus, you’re hot,” Stiles said before wrapping his mouth sideways over Derek.

“Less talking, more tongue, baby,” Derek grunted, reaching down to grasp the back of Stiles’ t-shirt and yank upward.  His white back was exposed and Derek looked at the pretty sight of Stiles held tightly against him, creamy skin flushed, lips wide, tongue lapping.

Stiles grimaced as his knees were ground into the filth of the floor, Derek’s hand hot and hard in his hair.  “Hold your horses,” he murmured against the hot skin.  Derek pulled him roughly backward, his dick rubbing against Stiles’ flushed cheek, smearing the pre-come luridly across the blush.  Stiles opened his mouth and let the head slide through his lips and over to the other side, streaking his face with the clear liquid.

“Fuck, you’re dirty,” Stiles said as he tilted his cheek against the flesh, licking his lips and pressing a kiss against the ridge.  Derek growled and pushed his cock forward between the spread lips, closing his eyes as he slid into the waiting mouth.  Stiles was effectively silenced as his lips parted, taking Derek in.

“You love it, don’t you?” Derek said in a low voice, his fingers tightening in Stiles’ gelled hair as he began to thrust in tiny little movements.  Stiles groaned out his agreement, lashes dark against his cheeks, hands digging into Derek’s solid thighs.  “You love my cock.  Tell me you love it.”

Stiles gurgled and slurped, nodding slightly as Derek jerked forward further along the rough tongue.

“Tell me, baby.”  Derek reached down and grasped Stiles by the chin, pulling out and watching as a stretch of spit connected them from Stiles’ wet lips to the head of his cock.

“Yes, love it, love your cock,” Stiles chanted, eyelids heavy and lips pink and swollen.

“Then open up.”

Stiles obliged eagerly, letting the head of Derek’s cock slide between his wet lips, tasting the liquid that was pooling at the tip.  He grunted around him as Derek jerked forward, unable to control himself.  The feeling was fantastic and degrading, his knees wallowing in the dirt, Derek holding him down and using him, fists gripping tightly, Stiles’ jaw burning with the stretch.  The thrusts started slow but soon Derek was groaning out and holding Stiles tightly, his movements speeding up as his grip intensified.

“That’s it.  Take it all, baby,” Derek said roughly as his thumbs dragged over Stiles’ sweating forehead and down to his stretched lips.  His cock nudged forward, hitting the back of Stiles’ throat and he grinned at the slightly choked noise Stiles made.  He did it again and again, reveling in the way Stiles’ hands clutched at him and the way his throat swallowed tightly around him.  He watched himself slide wetly in and out of those perfectly shaped lips, each thrust becoming sharper and less controlled.

Derek felt the tightening of his stomach and groin.  The air pulsed around him, thick and humid, as little tendrils of pleasure arced underneath his flushed skin in warning.  Stiles curled his tongue, followed by a low thrum that had Derek suddenly throttling through a sharp orgasm.  He drew out with a sucking wet sound and grasped himself tightly, the milky-white come painting Stiles’ startled lips and cheeks, and falling warmly over the quickly closed eyelids.

Stiles let his nostrils flare, taking in the scent of Derek, the dankness of the room, and the salt-sweet tang of fresh come that dripped down along his skin.  He darted his tongue out to taste, smiling at Derek’s sated face as he slouched against the wall tiles of the stall.  Derek looked positively sinful, dark stubble shadowing his gorgeous cheekbones, tight body sprawled languidly beneath the leather and jeans, his wet and leaking cock just visible from the top of his unzipped pants.  Derek breathed out deeply and let his fingers run over Stiles’ face, dipping into the come.  His slick hand pushed abruptly into Stiles’s jeans, skimming over his aching cock for just a moment, gathering up the leaking pre-come before he jerked his hand out and pushed his fingers against Stiles’ lips.

Stiles blinked and lapped at the salt-sweet fluid on Derek’s thick fingers, tasting them both.  It was a bit odd, but when Derek shoved them in more, leaving him with no choice, Stiles felt himself stiffen even further in his pants as he wrapped his tongue around the digits.  Well fuck.  Stiles added that to the mental list of things he’d never thought he’d wanted until Derek.  The list was growing stupidly long.  Derek pulled his fingers back and brushed his thumb over Stiles’ plush bottom lip, swollen and bright red from the rough treatment.

“Derek,” Stiles said with a slight whine to his voice.  “I’ve been good, haven’t I?”

Derek looked down at him with a dirty grin.  “Have you?  You complained an awful lot.”

Stiles shook his head.  “No.  I was just, um… I….”  Stiles shrugged slightly, wiping his lips and cheek off with the back of his hand.  “I was just eager... to uh… have you fuck me…. with your nice big cock?”

Derek raised his eyebrow, still boneless against the wall and licking his lips.  “That’s what you want?  Me to fuck you?  Right here?”

Stiles nodded up and down quickly, like an over-eager puppy.  “Yes.  Yes, please.”

Derek took a deep breath, eyes growing darker as he smelled his come and the desperate lust rolling off of the boy kneeling in front of him.  He leaned down to grasp the bottom of Stiles’ soft grey t-shirt and pulled it up, wiping off the come with the hem and smearing it across Stiles’ face, feeling possession well up darkly from deep within.  

“Mine,” Derek said harshly, tugging up on the shirt to yank Stiles’ wiry body against his.  He kissed his lips firmly, tasting the sex and desire, loving it.  He nipped his teeth against the corner of Stiles’ mouth, chasing the taste before rubbing his cheek against the soft dimples and down to breathe heavily against Stiles’ shoulder.  “You smell like me.  Like my scent.  I could keep you like this all the time, covered in my come, reeking of me.  So everyone knows who you belong to.  Who uses you.  Who fucks you.”

Stiles groaned and canted his hips forward, grinding heavily into Derek’s leather and jeans and scruff.  They leaned against the coolness of the wall, Stiles’ cock trapped heavily between them.  “Please, god, yes.  Anything.  Just fucking touch me again.”

Derek pulled back and looked stonily down at Stiles’ anxious face.  

Stiles immediately backtracked, panic shuttering down over his features as he clutched at the leather covering the wide shoulders.  “Wait, no, I didn’t mean that.  Derek, please.”

Derek shoved heavily down on Stiles’ shoulders, Stiles grunting as his knees impacted the dirty floor once more.  “Did you just tell me what to do?”

“No, no, nope, absolutely not, Derek…”  Stiles was reduced to begging, deathly afraid he wasn’t going to be allowed to come.  His eyebrows came up animatedly, an attempt at a charming smile falling off his face at Derek’s icy look.

“And now you’re lying to me.”  It wasn’t a question.

Stiles wisely remained silent, licking his lips and trying not to shift too much against his now way beyond too-tight pants.  Derek tucked himself in and pulled up his zipper, running his hands through his slicked back hair before pushing himself off the wall and towering over Stiles’ kneeling form.  When Stiles let out a small whine Derek smiled viciously and tugged upward on his shoulders, pushing the gangly limbs flat against the wall and grinding his hips forward.

“Now you won’t get to come, baby.  Such a shame.  I wanted to hear your lips parted for me, hear you screaming my name.  I wanted everyone to hear it.”

Stiles screwed his eyes shut, feeling like he might die if he wasn’t touched.  And Derek, Derek’s face was so close, the whiskers of his beard scratching him maddeningly, fingers holding him in a bruising grip against the wall.

“Now you’ll just have to wait.”  Derek reached lower to palm against Stiles’ throbbing cock, giving him a squeeze through too many layers of fabric.  “You can do that for me.  Be a good boy and wait?  Because I asked?”

Stiles nodded furiously, desperate to please.  “Yes.  Yes, I’m good.  So good for you.”

Derek rewarded him with a smile and a squeeze of his ass, yanking the smaller body off the wall and pushing him forward and out the stall door.  He gave him a smack on the ass and Stiles jerked his body forward and bit his tongue at the expletive that was about to spill out.  His attention was instantly distracted by the sight in the mirror before him.  The hair which he had spent so much time gelling artfully was a tangled mess, his lips bright red and swollen, his eyes shiny, a flush sweeping downward into his shirt collar.  And the rest was worse, much worse.  His t-shirt was soaked with sweat and come, the bottom hem of it a completely darker color and clinging against his pants and very very apparent boner.  And his knees, fuck.  They were caked in dirt, the filth ground heavily into the blue wash.

“Derek,” Stiles said, eyes widening in slight panic and incredulousness.  “Derek, I can’t go out there like this.”  He met Derek’s dark eyes through the mirror, a tremor running through him at the smirk that slid across the wolf’s features.

“Yes you can.  Yes you will.”

Stiles tried to brush at his knees, budging absolutely zero of the mess before combing his hands through his hair in a futile attempt to get it to flatten.  He moved to the sink to turn it on, splashing water onto his hair and face, scrubbing at his cheeks to get the last vestiges of Derek’s come off of him.

“Leave it,” Derek said silkily and Stiles froze mid-scrub.  He came up behind Stiles, reaching around to turn off the faucet and grabbing onto his shoulder heavily to turn him all the way around until he was pinned against the countertop.  “I want everyone to see.”

“Jesus, Derek.  I’m not gonna make it.”  Stiles quivered beneath the fingertips, hips arching forward.  He bit his lip, eyes flicking downward to Derek’s mouth, willing him closer.  Willing him to just get on top of him and get it over with.

“Are you gonna come in your pants for me, baby?  Is that what you want?”

Stiles jerked further forward, thinking yes, yes he was going to die, right here in this gross disgusting bathroom with Derek laying on top of him.  “Yes.  No.  Yes.”  Stiles was babbling now, incoherent.

“You can wait for me, baby.  You can be good.”  Derek drew back and pressed a light kiss against Stiles' nose, watching with a small grin as the brown eyes crossed as they followed the movement.

He pushed off and began to stride to the door, turning to regard Stiles with a cock of his head as he reached for the handle.  “Coming?”

Stiles grumbled and pulled down on his tshirt, making a face as his fingers contacted the wetness covering the bottom.  He gathered his limbs up and walked in a generally straight line toward Derek’s smug face, resisting the urge to make a snippy comment or stick his tongue out.  Death by blue balls was not what he’d wanted on his tombstone.  Though the fact that it was induced by Derek might have been a source of pride.

The walk back through the sweaty bodies wasn’t helping Stiles’ heightened senses, and the way Derek pressed hotly into him as they ground together on the dance floor was nearly driving him insane.  Only when they were leaving a painfully long hour later did Stiles notice the way his hand glowed lightly in a spattered pattern.  He looked down with horror at his shirt, noticing the way it lit up in bright splotches.

"Blacklight?" Stiles yelped, hitting Derek on the chest as the man crushed him against his body.

"I thought you knew," Derek said with a grin into Stiles' ear, making him roll his hips involuntarily. "Come on, baby. You've been good for me."

Stiles felt the color returning to his cheeks as he let Derek herd him out of the crowd with a tight hold on his forearm and brushed lips against his nape that made him shudder fully with anticipation.

 


End file.
